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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27738712">wrong side of the bed</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilishMendicant/pseuds/devilishMendicant'>devilishMendicant</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>koi's ddlc baby fics (aka the magical ballpit) [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doki Doki Literature Club! (Visual Novel)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Caregiver!Natsuki, Caregiver!Sayori, Caregiver!Yuri, Diapers, Embarrassment, Implied/Referenced Punishment, Little!Monika, Multi, Non-Sexual Age Play, Swearing, Wetting, all is consensual monika is simply being a bit of a brat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:07:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,742</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27738712</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilishMendicant/pseuds/devilishMendicant</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The first Friday of every month is just the worst, in Monika's very relevant, very truthful, very adult opinion -</p><p>(Not that said opinion ever gets her out of it, natch.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Monika/Natsuki/Sayori/Yuri (Doki Doki Literature Club!)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>koi's ddlc baby fics (aka the magical ballpit) [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1713370</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>wrong side of the bed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hi, i had a bunch of terrible feelings so i laid down and wrote about vaguely related feelings for four hours until my original feelings went away. </p><p>gestures to the fic. bon appetit</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Oh, Moooo~nnnnieee!”</p><p>Monika groans under her breath and hides her face under her pillow.</p><p></p><div class="message-2qnXI6 cozyMessage-3V1Y8y groupStart-23k01U wrapper-2a6GCs cozy-3raOZG zalgo-jN1Ica">
  <p></p>
  <div class="contents-2mQqc9">
    <p></p>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>She had <em>almost</em> forgotten, for one blissful half-awake moment, that it was the first weekend of the month starting today. (... by Sayori, Natsuki and Yuri’s calendar, at least, which marked off any non-work Friday as ‘weekend’.) And the first weekend of the month - whether Monika likes it or not, which she does <em>not,</em> thank you very much - is mandatory—</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Aww, c’mon, baby! Uppy time for sweet little puppies~!” .</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>.. Little time.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p><em>Whether</em> Monika felt like it, or not.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Scowling quite ferociously (into her pillow), Monika squirms away from Sayori’s too-cheerful voice and hands and <em>self</em> as she tries - keyword: tries - to cocoon herself further into the blankets and <em>much</em> further off to the opposite side of the bed. The very worst part about waking up on these particular Fridays is how horribly terribly stupidly peppy her goddamn girlfriends were about making Monika feel like a cute little loveable thing she is very much <em>not,</em> regardless of how infuriating Monika attempts (every single time) to make the process.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Like right now, when Sayori just <em>tsks,</em> amused, and whisks the blanket off of Monika easy as they come.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>(The pillow, notably, she leaves right where it is.)</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“So~me-one’s grum~py,” she singsongs - something which has never once improved the sour mood of the person referenced.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“‘m <em>not <strong>little,”</strong></em> Monika <em>growls,</em> kicking out her foot and feeling angrier by the second as Sayori <em>catches</em> it, pushing her up into a rather upended position and tugging down (up?) her—</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“You <em>sure,</em> bunnykins? Because it looks like somebunny’s stars all snuck off and ran away while she was sleeping~!”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>
        <em> <strong>OH YOU DID NOT.</strong> </em>
      </p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p><strong>”HEY!”</strong> Monika snaps, but the damage there has been done - nobody in recent history has managed to stomp and argue their way out of being <em>designated drooly baby</em> with a wet diaper taped around their rear end. Monika would very much like to cuss Sayori and her evil fucking plans out, but at this point, she’d end up with a mouthful of soap for it and she would prefer to not be roaringly mad <em>and</em> queasy.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>She settles for trying to kick Sayori in the head, which goes as well as you’d expect it to.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Ohhh, what are <em>you</em> complaining about, lil’ miss? You don’t even <em>have</em> a potty chart,” Sayori laughs, having easily caught Monika’s <em>other</em> foot, which is now - AGH - coming with her as she leans down to procure changing supplies from the bin under Monika’s bed, rather heedless (rather purposefully) of the helpless twist Monika’s spine is forced into. “The only rainclouds around here are riiiight under that pillow of yours~!”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>She’s still pissed (ha. ha.) and the reminder that she is so <em>very</em> much the baby that she doesn’t get the <em>choice</em> to try and use the toilet is enough, even in her rather manhandled state, to get Monika to angrily flail out in Sayori’s direction again. This time she can’t even get her body into the proper contortion to do so before Sayori’s neutralized both her most convenient limbs, and throwing the pillow would then subject her to having to <em>watch</em> her stupid soaked diaper get changed, so. It’s not that Monika concedes defeat, no, but she settles for hissing and spitting as harshly as she can muster while Sayori’s mopping her down and changing her into—</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Gooood <em>moooorning,</em> you sweet little <em>ray of sunshine~!”</em></p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p><em>Puppies,</em> Monika notes, covering her face now with her <em>hands</em> as Sayori finally removes the pillow from her possession. <em>With the pawprints and everything. Wonderful.</em></p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Awww, my baby’s been stolen away and replaced with a little red cherry tomato~!” Sayori giggles. Monika grits her teeth, peeking out between her fingers just enough to glare <em>daggers</em> at her girlfriend’s back, turned away to procure what is surely going to be some disgustingly cutesy soft babyish ensemble that Monika has absolutely no interest whatsoever in wearing on her person.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“C’mon, sweetie, chin up a little bit! We’re going to have so much <em>fun</em> today, you wouldn’t want to be a grouchy poutypants the whole time!”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“No fun will be had and I know where you sleep and for the last <em>time</em> I’m not—“</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Sayori turns to Monika with a sly glint in her eye and OH HELL NO</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Whaaaaat’s that~? Did I hear a little someone saying she wants the <em>cutest</em> little outfit Mama can find??”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>
        <strong>”If you put that thing on me so <em>help</em> me I’m going to—“</strong>
      </p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <hr/>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Going to what?” Yuri asks, raising a faintly amused eyebrow as she skims down the front page of the morning paper, warm mug of tea in her other hand.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Sayori smiles, winningly, and pets Monika’s cheek with the pad of her thumb as she finishes buckling her highchair. “Ohhh, I can’t tell you <em>that,</em> honey. Monnie and Mama decided it’d be our little secret, didn’t we?”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>As much as Monika detests her girlfriend right now, she can at least begrudgingly, internally, admire her blackmail tactics.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Hmmm, I wondered why she hadn’t bitten your ear off by the time you two made it down here. Someone’s not quite a happy sprout this morning, then?”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“When is she ever,” Natsuki says, dryly, emerging from the kitchen with plates in tow. “Surprised you made it down in one piece.”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Me or the baby?”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“From the racket you two were making above my kitchen? Both. Expected to walk up there and find two jigsaw puzzles.”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Would’ve <em>won,”</em> Monika mutters mutinously— a terrible idea, yes, but she’s too damn offended by Natsuki’s implication to do otherwise. Luckily(?) for her, Natsuki’s first instinct is <em>always</em> to jab back.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Oh <em>really.</em> That’s why you’re modeling that cute little “I found my princess and her name is Mommy” onesie, huh, diaper-butt? You <em>won</em> the right to wear that one.” Over her shoulder, Natsuki continues, “Well, I think you found her new favorite shirt, ‘yori.”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>
        <em>”N—No!!”</em>
      </p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“We don’t shout at the table,” Yuri says, to which Monika <em>sorely</em> wishes to respond <em>’we don’t shout <span class="u">anywhere</span> you fucking Hex Girl wannabe’</em> but, sensing the inevitability of soap and even more humiliation in that direction, wisely keeps her mouth clamped shut.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Yeah, pipsqueak. Sheesh.”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“We <em>also</em> don’t antagonize the baby,” Yuri says, glancing at Natsuki. “In fact, I’m sure she’s hungry.”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Well, thank God I happened to find these pancakes on my way in, then,” Natsuki quips, setting a plastic plate with three pancakes, a little plastic tub of syrup, and - ughghghgh - a <em>bottle</em> of milk on the tray of Monika’s highchair.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>... no fork is forthcoming. Metal <em>or</em> plastic.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Monika stares down at her plate for at <em>least</em> a minute before Natsuki speaks up again, giving her a <em>look.</em></p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“What? It’s not gonna bite you.”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Ohh, Natsu, you gave her syrup? Here, baby, good <em>thinking</em> waiting!”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p><strong>AGH NOW MAMA’S PUTTING A BIB ON HER.</strong> SAYORI. DAMMIT. Monika blames the awkward positioning of the highchair for her completely inefficient technique futilely trying to bat Sayori’s hands away from her neck.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>The bib has a smiley butterfly on it. It reads “Mama’s little monarch” and is making Monika want to jump off a bridge.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“There you go, honeybunch!” Sayori coos, booping the tip of her nose before sashaying back off to her seat at the table. <em>Monika</em> would like to be seated at the table.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“I wanna be at the table.”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Dearest, you’d fall out of the chair. Remember last time?” <em>Last</em> time Monika <em>had</em> been little, and also half-awake and incredibly milkdrunk and had barely been <em>on</em> the chair in the first place because she had fallen over trying to get <em>up</em> onto it and ultimately had toppled a handful of inches.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“I’m not <em>little,”</em> is what she chooses to convey out of that clusterfuck of reasonings. Yuri ticks her tongue and ignores her.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“I wanna fork, too,” Monika presses, figuring that maybe she could go for the lesser of two evils tactic.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Nearly poked your eye out last time.”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“I’m <strong>not little!”</strong></p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Sweetie, it’s Friday~. You <em>are</em> little and you are <em>going</em> to eat your nummy pancakes or you’re going to be <em>very very grumpy</em> for the rest of the day.”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“I’m already grumpy! Mad! <strong>I’m not happy!”</strong></p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“If you chuck <em>anything</em> off that tray,” Natsuki warns, and god damn it Monika knows Natsuki means it when it comes to food even if she wants SO BADLY to knock her upside the head with the stupid little bowl of syrup and make her have to shower for the second time that morning and—</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p><em>”</em> <em>Don’t. You. Try. It.”</em></p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Monika does not try it. Monika glares murderously at the big people at the big table and rips off a piece of her pancake and crams it in her mouth and stubbornly, <em>righteously</em> cross, does not enjoy it at all.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>The idea does cross her mind to dump syrup on <em>herself</em> - briefly, because she doesn’t want a bath (which she would certainly be forced to have) and because she’s positive that MaSayori has a onesie that’s even more embarrassing than this one stashed away somewhere for just the occasion of Monika thinking she’s clever. In the end, the most uncooperative, bratty thing she can manage to do that wouldn’t end up making things <em>far</em> more unenjoyable for herself is to be as dribbly as possible while dunking fistfuls of pancake, so the tray would be a bitch to clean off before lunch. Whatever lunch was going to be.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Monika is in the middle of making sure her syrup bowl isn’t holding anything out on her by the time her girlfriends are finished with their own breakfasts, and the brief realization that she probably looks like a teddy bear in a honey pot knocks her off-kilter for just long enough for Sayori to wipe off her face and hands without the squirming fit Monika had been planning. Damnit.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Oh, baby, you haven’t even touched your milk yet! You must be so thirsty,” Sayori says, a bit frettingly, and Monika glowers.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“I’m not.”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Oh, I think you <em>are.</em> C’mere, grumpy Gus, let’s get that last bit of breakfast in you.”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <hr/>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Being bottlefed is the actual literal worst position to keep up a scowl in.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>For one thing, MamSayori is looking down at her with those sweet precious babydoll pumpkinpie cuddle muffin eyes that she can just <em>summon,</em> at a moment’s notice - so Monika can hardly look <em>up</em> and glare or she’s going to get Care Bear Stared into forgetting what a lousy rotten day she’s having (and also how to spell basic vocabulary words) within five minutes.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>She can’t glare to the <em>side,</em> either, because MSayori feeds her on the <em>couch,</em> which means the TV is over there; and if she looks over at <em>that,</em> she’s equally done for, because Natsuki is going to notice and flip on one of the saccharine baby-oriented television shows with the soothing British narrators that is going to have roughly the same effect on her as staring up at Sayori’s radiant lovey-dovey expression, which is to say terrible and a straight ticket to babbling infanthood. No good. And of course, glaring to the <em>other </em>side - towards Sayori's <em>chest </em>- while sucking down milk from a bottle gives <em>quite </em>the different impression than what she has in mind (speaking from experience).</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>So Monika is glaring at the bottle in front of her nose as if she could set it on fire with her mind. She can’t - <em>believe me she has tried</em> - but it’s the thought that counts, as MoYuri likes to say. Watching the milk slosh around in the bottle with crossed eyes isn’t the <em>best</em> for her state of mind, but it’s the best solution she’s going to get. The only other option is <em>shutting</em> her eyes, and she knows from experience that only leads to falling asleep and losing her bladder, which she would <strong>prefer</strong> not to do.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>... not that she actually has much of a choice, but she would rather lose it to endurance than to taking a mid-morning nap sucking on a baby bottle.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Sayori, Monika can tell, knows this, which is probably why she’s making things <em>even</em> harder by going on and on and on about absolutely mindless nothingness baby-talk-topics. Monika isn’t even listening to her. Not giving her the time of day. She isn’t a <em>baby,</em> so it clearly isn’t <em>her</em> that Sayori is addressing while she’s crooning about <em>how much <strong>fun</strong> the baby is going to have today.</em> This hypothetical, nonexistent baby must sure lead a charmed life.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>She can’t even bite the stupid bottle or she’ll get her cheeks squished in again for the trouble. Absolutely horrible.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>
        <em>”... wonder what we’re going to do today? Hm? Baby doesn’t know where we’re going, does she—“</em>
      </p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>
        <strong>”Hewehh??!!”</strong>
      </p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Monika would have spit the nipple out, had it not been, you know, being actively pushed into her mouth - as it stands she looks up at Sayori in <em>terrified</em> surprise and DAMN IT bad idea BAD idea MamSAYORI still giving her the nice calm mushy look and, fuck, stupid heartbeat going all slowed back down. <em>She’s planning on taking us outside you stupid traitor start getting freaked out again.</em></p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Hmmm? Oh, I think baby’s going to have <em>plenty</em> of fun where we’re going today,” Mama purrs, and Monika swallows timidly, blanching. She was <em>serious,</em> not just saying anything that would trick Monika into looking up at her dumb brain-melty Mama look, and Monika’s stomach turns over once or twice as she squirms.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Awww, baby~. Shhh-sh-shh, you’re okay,” she coos, thumb making soothing circles where it rested against the outside of Monika’s thigh, “No need to be scared, sweetpea, Mama and Mommy wouldn’t let <em>anything</em> bad happen to you. You’ll see, baby, it’ll be <em>so</em> good for you.”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>... granted... Mama and Mo<em>Sa-yo-RI</em> and Yuri do, indeed, tend only to torment the living hell out of Monika <em>themselves.</em> Outsourcing the humiliation train has never even once been on the table, and, even when Monika was too juiced on babybrain to feel embarrassed about anything anymore they didn’t go out of their way to make it <em>obvious</em> to the great wide world what was going on. Usually, in fact, they either stayed in or went so far out of the way that the likelihood of any single other person stumbling across them without prior directions was, how do you say, infinitesimal.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Which is why the fact she’s got a bad feeling about this is extremely, worrisomely ominous.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Sayori... notices that. Monika doesn’t have to guess how, considering how she’s staring at her calm expression like a lifeline as she weighs her choices between <em>throwing</em> herself into littlespace in an attempt to escape higher cognizance, or being <em>so</em> utterly bratty that she makes enough of a scene to escape the impending unknown. Somewhere in the midst of this, Sayori’s brow crinkles, and she leans down closer to Monika, whispers gently in the way that Monika identifies immediately as genuine.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Sweetheart, hey, you don’t have to force yourself down. If you’re really scared, we don’t have to do anything, promise. Me and Yuri just thought...”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>She trails off, frowning concernedly.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“But making yourself sick or forcing yourself... that’s not what weekends are about, honey. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do that...”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“... y— <em>p’omidth</em> ith no’...”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Monika cringes, rather than word the end of her statement. Sayori shakes her head quickly.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“I <em>promise</em> it’s not some horrible prank. It really really is something nice that I think you’d really like and that nobody’s going to interfere with or be mean about or <em>anything.”</em></p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Monika nibbles the end of the bottle, which Sayori does not scold her for.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“... ‘k-kay,” Monika mumbles, slowly drawing her gaze back down to the bottle. “T’uss’ y’u.”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Okay, baby,” Sayori sighs, tinge of relief as she starts to idly pat Monika’s thigh again. “Thank you. That means so much, sweetheart.”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Monika, heart assured,</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Scowls.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Mmph,” she huffs, and sets about finishing her drink before she gets waylaid by Sayori’s sappy smile again.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <hr/>
    </div>
  </div>
</div><div class="message-2qnXI6 cozyMessage-3V1Y8y groupStart-23k01U wrapper-2a6GCs cozy-3raOZG zalgo-jN1Ica">
  <p>“I waaaant <em>ouuuutttt.”</em></p>
  <p>“Why, so you can crawl off into my kitchen and get into the flour again?”</p>
  <p></p>
  <div class="contents-2mQqc9">
    <p></p>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Mommy and Mama are getting <em>ready</em> for something which means Monika has been left in the playpen in the living room, within earshot of a reading Natsuki. It’s boring, it’s childish, and it’s honestly incredibly offensive to suggest that Monika needs <em>boxing-in</em> like some kind of dumb baby. She huffs, pressing her hands against the mesh wall.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“I’m <em>not, little,”</em> she insists, grimacing. “Lemme <em>ouuut.”</em></p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Nope. Mommy’s orders.” Natsuki flicks over a page in her book. “Just gonna have to sit in whiny baby jail.”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p><em>”</em><em>Nooooooo,”</em> Monika groans. “Not Mommy and I’m not a whiny baby lemme <em>ouuuutttttttt.”</em></p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Want the TV on?”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“No. Out.”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Want different toys?”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>
        <em>”No. Out.”</em>
      </p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Want a wooden spoon and a metal pot?”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>
        <strong>”No. Out!”</strong>
      </p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Need a change, pissy-britches?” Natsuki snorts, clearly finding Monika’s insistence on this point to be little more than a funny aside. “Startin’ to sound like I need to run down the checklist.”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p><em>”Noooooooo. Ugggghhhhhhhh,”</em> Monika groans, flopping against the side of the stupid weighted-down playpen as dramatically as she could manage. “I’m gonna diiiiieeee.”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Dead of terminal sit-downs. Absolute shame. Never saw it coming.”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Out out out out out.”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“You’re not getting out of there until your mommies damn well say so. Your toys missed you, give them some attention, why don’t you.”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“No they did <em>not,”</em> Monika humphs, “They’re not real and they don’t have feelings and I want ou—“</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Monika, what do you even <em>want</em> to do outside of the playpen.”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Monika opens her mouth,</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>And,</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Closes it again, looking rather mulish.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“... um,” she says, because - surely she could come up with <em>some</em> plan for <em>some</em> thing that she had wanted to do or get done this Friday that did not involve sitting on her padded butt in a stupid mesh baby cage, but, unfortunately nothing was springing to immediate mind that Natsuki couldn’t instantly brush off by doing it <em>for</em> her or throwing it in the pit with her. “I— I wanna... clean... the bathroom.”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“No you don’t,” Natsuki scoffs.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“I wanna— I wanna go on a walk.”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“No, you don’t.”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“I wanna fix the sink?”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“That was a question, not a statement,” she grunts, heaving herself off the couch and walking off into the adjoining room (something that does <em>not</em> make Monika feel even the tiniest bit nervous and upset) for half a minute before walking back in, tossing something in the direction of the playpen.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Ow!”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Monika is struck (exceedingly lightly) in the face by an oversized plush koala.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“There. You know, I don’t think Mr. Hugs appreciated the comment about him not having feelings.”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Monika’s jaw drops for a moment, staring at Natsuki in a wounded sort of way as she gathers the soft toy to her chest. How <em>mean!</em> Natsuki <em>knew</em> Mr. Hugs was an incredibly important and special friend just like Mama’s Mr. Cow and this was the most lowdown dirty trick she has ever seen in her life. Not to mention Mr. Hugs would <em>know</em> Monika wasn’t talking about him.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>... he would know that, right?</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“... oh god kid I was kidding please don’t start—“</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <hr/>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Mommy and Mama come back downstairs to find Natsuki and Monika on the couch; Natsuki with a complicated and guilty expression, Monika wrapped around her oversized koala plush and watching a <em>vaguely</em> childish television show, at least, while gnawing absentmindedly at the knuckle of her thumb.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Monika does not <em>notice</em> that Mommy and Mama have come back downstairs until Mommy flips the television back to off. She chalks this up to them being extremely quiet coming down the stairs, and pouts over in their direction just as Mama turns to Natsuki with a sly grin.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“I see you <em>definitely</em> kept the baby in the playpen where she’s supposed to be!”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“I am <em>not</em> bright,” Natsuki grumbles, “And your infant is a crybaby.”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Am <em>not,”</em> Monika hmphs, wrapping her arms a little tighter around Mr. Hugs. And she was <em>not.</em> Getting sad sniffles for a few minutes didn’t make her a <em>crybaby.</em></p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Of course not,” hums Mommy, and Monika squirms indignantly as she sticks her finger into the leghole of Monika’s diaper. “Darling, do you need a change?”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Noooo,” Monika whines. She, in fact, does not, even if her stomach is twinging rather sorely by this point. “Stop it.”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Mm. Well, then, we ought to get moving. Natsuki, would you collect the bag by the front entry?”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Yeah, sure thing.”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“C’mon, baby, let’s go go go~!” Mama beams, tugging Monika up from the couch by her underarms. Monika flushes red, frowning.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Go <em>where?”</em></p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“It’s a surprise~!” Mama says, which Monika does not like. Her hand is too warm to tug away from, though, and Monika is fairly sure she’ll end up in the corner if she starts kicking and dragging her feet - so she settles for whining and pouting and glaring over the top of Mr. Hugs’ head as Mama tugs stretchy pants up on her and puts her feet in Velcro-strapped <em>Keroppi</em> shoes.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Don’t waaaaannaaaaa.”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“I know, baby,” Mama giggles, which makes Monika scowl more. “You’re quite the little bitty contrarian, aren’t you?”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“No!”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Mama finds this even funnier, to Monika’s annoyance.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Wherever her mommies are endeavoring to take her, apparently it involves the <em>car,</em> which Monika glares at as if she could will it to disappear because she knows <em>exactly</em> what’s in the car, and it is—</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Let’s get you all buckled in your carseat, pumpkin!”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>— the <em>worst thing mankind has ever invented,</em> a big stupid bulky <em>thing</em> with stupid harness straps and too wide of a sit and it faced <em>backwards,</em> like a real big stupid baby carseat, and absolutely <em>worst</em> of all it had stupid <em>extra straps</em> for her hands and her feet just in case she tried to be clever about the <em>other</em> straps and <em>she is not going in that carseat,</em></p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“C’mon, sweetie,”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>
        <strong>Maybe if she thinks it a little more venomously,</strong>
      </p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p><em>“</em><em>Baby,”</em> Mama says in her nice-but-warning voice, and Mommy shows up out of nowhere <em>again</em> right behind her and hefts her up and forward into the car and nonononoNONONO<em>NO,</em></p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>The very <em>last</em> straw is feeling a buckle wrap around her ankle.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p><em><strong>”NNNNOOOOOOO!”</strong></em> Monika shrieks, <em>flailing</em> her free leg out with all her might. <em><strong>”I’M NOOOOTTTTT AAAA BAAAABYYYY!”</strong></em></p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>And, she realizes, suddenly sobbing around a painful lump in her throat - she sounds kind of cut-up about that.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p><em>”I’b <strong>noooo’ddddd,”</strong></em> she cries, through Mommy catching her leg and Mama finishing her buckles, through the car door shutting and the garage door opening and Mommy backing the car up and out the driveway. <em>”I’b no’d I’b no’d I’b <strong>no’—“</strong></em></p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Mama pets her cheek, through a cough and a hiccup. “Oh, sweetpea, we know. You’re our big brave girl, aren’t you?”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Monika crushes her face into Mr. Hugs’ head, quivering. She moans something that might have been a yes or might have been a no but what was really just a noise that meant ‘ouch’, as in her heart and her eyes and her legs, and Mama strokes the back of her neck as Monika proves, to everyone in the car, that she <em>is</em> a crybaby.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>By the time she’s finished, she can’t tell in the slightest where they are from the view out the window. She doesn’t think she wants to know, either. Monika’s eyes are puffy and red-rimmed and sore and all she wants is a hug and a nap, only now noticing Mama hadn’t buckled her hands because she can feel her own thumb poking past her lips. The harness kind of swims in her brain, anyway - she stares at it for a moment, trying hard to make the pieces make sense in her head, but she... can’t, not anymore, and she sighs as her mouth closes wetly around her thumb.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“‘ugg’y,” she whimpers, reaching the hand still wrapped around teddy towards Mama, squirming. Mama hugs around her as much as she can possibly fit, whispers how much of a sweet brave good little baby girl she is until Monika’s shuddery sniffles calm back down, and kisses her on both cheeks and her forehead and the bridge of her nose before she pulls back away again.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Monika blinks lazily in her direction, utterly exhausted. This was too much to handle for one single morning, and her eyes are drifting further shut by the minute. There was something... she was trying <em>not</em> to sleep, she thought, because of something...</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Oh. She crinkles her nose, registering an ache in her tummy, and she mumbles <em>“o’ddy”</em> around her thumb but by the time the word manages to come out, there’s already a familiar sleepy warmth spreading under her pants. Mama just smiles, fondly stroking Monika’s arm, and Monika blushes.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Aww, baby, no wonder you were so grumpy,” Mama coos, sleepy sound that makes Monika whine faintly, “That must’ve given you such a tummyache, huh? Poor baby...”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>(... maybe that <em>was</em> why she was so grumpy, after all; holding it in even though she knew perfectly well she had a trusty, comfy place to let go.)</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Monika sighs very deeply, nuzzles against her precious plushy, and falls asleep before she’s even finished.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <hr/>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p><em>”</em> <em>... ute lil’ th... ... ll knocked out.”</em></p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>
        <em>”... ww, ‘suki... ... ust a <strong>baby...”</strong></em>
      </p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Monika stirs back into awareness to a sudden brush of cold air around her bottom, and she whines.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Good mo-orning, sunshine,” Mama hums sweetly - Monika is unbuckled and laid out over the cars’ other seats, and Mama is changing her, and Mr. Hugs is still cuddling her and Monika rubs at her eyes with her fist, clumsy. “Did you sleep nice~?”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Yuh,” mumbles Monika, looking this way and that until she catches sight of Natsuki and Mommy, still sitting in their front seats. Good. Monika feels better and happier knowing where all her mommies and Natsu are and she smiles drowsily as Natsuki grins, covering her mouth a bit.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Yup, we got full baby,” she says, sounding happy so Monika decides that’s a good thing. Mama hums a happy sound, too, and once Monika’s taped back up she asks</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Do you know where we are, bunnykins?”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Monika blinks. In the car? Mama sits her up, carefully, and Monika looks around outside the window wide-eyed until her gaze lands on—</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p><em>T</em> <em>he children’s museum!</em></p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>
        <em>The—</em>
      </p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>
        <em>The children’s museum?</em>
      </p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Monika,” Mommy says, slowly, because maybe she probably noticed how excited and sparkly Monika looked for a second before she just looked confused and a little nervous. “We <em>don’t</em> have to go in if you don’t want to, sweetheart, okay? But your mama and I,”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“Found a little advertisement on the website we go to,” Mama continues, fingers combing through the side of Monika’s hair soothingly. “A lot of mommies and daddies and their big little kids rented out the museum for today, so they can play and have lots of fun and not worry about anybody else being nosy.”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Monika bites at the end of her thumb, staring out the front window towards the building.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“So there’s not gonna be anyone inside there except other babies, and mommies and daddies, and big siblings, like us,” Mama says.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p><em>”</em><em>And</em> a bunch of fun games and toys and stuff to play on, ‘yori,” Natsuki says, “Can’t believe you’d leave <em>that</em> part out.”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“We know it’s a <em>very</em> big choice to think about, darling, and it <em>is</em> perfectly alright if you aren’t comfortable going in. We can just as well have some ice cream and a picnic in the woods, or even just go home for a cuddle day, if you want.”</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Monika... thinks. Very hard.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Monika thinks about being shy and being embarrassed, and how very nervous she feels outside, and Monika also thinks about how big and achy the feelings feel in her chest when they pass by playgrounds and pizza-and-games-restaurants and this darn children’s museum, and when Monika has hard days and sad days and wishes so much she could curl up in Mommy’s arms and Mama’s hugs and cry and beg for ups and be rolled in a stroller all the way home, wishes so <em>much</em> she was still little and small and not strange and too-large.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Monika thinks <em>very</em> hard.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“... M, Mama,” she says, pushing her cheek against Mama’s shoulder, “I’w— wan’a go ‘n.”</p>
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    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>Mama squeezes her a little tighter; Mommy’s eyes light up; Natsuki’s grin seems a little more proud, and Monika’s tummy stops wobbling so much.</p>
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    <div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC">
      <p>“P... P’ease!”</p>
    </div>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i really like this version of little!Monika and im weak in the knees for natsayuri + little!monika dynamic in general so i'll probably write with this one again. eventually. </p><p>back to chipping away at the wips on my phone,</p><p>(i know that kind of carseat doesn't exist in real life and if it does don't link me because then i'll cry over not having one . this is make believe land and it has whatever i want)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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